


Every Second Chance

by exmanhater



Category: Total Drama
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Motorcycles, Opposites Attract, Reunions, Romance, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 17:52:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12537768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater
Summary: Courtney's happy with her life. She's a lawyer, she has friends, and she doesn't have many Camp Wawanakwa nightmares anymore. She has everything she thinks she needs, until Duncan shows up and reminds her that sometimes things work better the second time around.





	Every Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is set twelve years after the end of Total Drama Island, and assumes that the reunion show and all other seasons of Total Drama did not happen. Many thanks to torigates for the beta, and to everyone at Podfication 2017 for listening to me yell about Courtney and Duncan for a whole weekend.

Courtney doesn't believe what she's seeing for a long moment, watching him from across the crowded coffee shop. Could it really be him, with the exact same green mohawk he'd had at sixteen? Surely he would have changed it up by now. Maybe shaved his whole head?

She shakes herself, returning her focus to the Americano to which she's just added too much cream. This is what happens when she wastes time on memories. "Fuck," she mutters, and decides it's not worth it to ask for a new coffee. She'll just have to live with it. She adds a lid and turns to leave, but before she can reach the door, a voice calls after her.

"Excuse me, you left this—"

Courtney turns around and the man who'd spoken double-takes at the sight of her.

"Courtney?"

She can't believe it. It really is him. Duncan, her teenage bad boy boyfriend, is standing right in front of her, holding her forgotten scarf in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. He's wearing jeans and a sweater—a fucking sweater, of all things—but his piercings and hair are exactly how she remembers them.

"Oh my god," she says, smiling without meaning to. "Duncan?"

He grins, the crooked one she knows he always used to use to get out of trouble. "The one and only, babe."

"It's good to see you," she manages, and when he tries to hug her she wraps her one free hand around his neck and laughs as he realizes neither of his hands are free.

"Sorry," he says, pulling back. "Hey, do you have a second? Let me put this down, we can sit."

"Well," she replies, then shrugs. Her Saturday afternoon yoga class isn't anything she'll be sorry to miss. "Sure, why not."

He sets her scarf down carefully at an open table, then grabs her coffee and sets it down along with his own before opening his arms again for a hug.

Courtney rolls her eyes, but it really is good to see him. She steps into the hug and lets him lift her in the air a little before she protests. "Oh my god, put me down!" she squeals, but she's laughing at them both and she doesn't really mind, and he can still read her well enough to tell.

She feels like she always does when she sees someone from Camp Wawanakwa—slightly younger, excited, full of adrenaline. Courtney doesn't see many people from that one crazy summer very often these days, but even people like Heather inspire this feeling, to a lesser degree. It's like they're all part of a secret club, and they're the only people who know the password and the feelings that come along with it. With Duncan, it's so much stronger. She hasn't seen him in eight years, not since their fight to make it long distance (through college for her and a mechanic apprentice program for him) ended with a whimper. She's always remembered their time together with a lot of fondness, and even more irritation. She even feels fondness _for_ the irritation now, which always make her laugh at herself. It's easy to see things differently now that she's twenty-eight and accomplishing so many of her goals.

He does finally set her down again, and they both sit across from each other. He takes a drink of his coffee and leans back, one arm laid casually on the back of the empty chair next to him. "So," he says, grinning at her conspiratorially again. "Won any lawsuits lately?"

Courtney grins back, and then tries to look haughty and powerful, like the real grown-up lawyer she is now. "As a matter of fact, I have," she says.

"You get 'em, princess," he replies.

"What about you?" she asks, sipping at her Americano. "What are you even doing in Toronto? I thought you were still in, what was it, Vancouver? You have your own shop, don't you?"

He shrugs. "I was, up until about a month ago. Got an offer from an old family friend that I couldn't really refuse, restoring this classic Alpha Romero. The shop's pretty much a well-oiled machine. My general manager handles everything except the real specialty cases, and those happen all over the country. So for now, he's got Vancouver handled and I'm free to travel the world."

"Duncan, that's great!" Courtney feels smug vindication for her firmly held belief that Duncan could accomplish great things, if only he'd try. She tries not to let it show.

"It's okay," he says, but he's grinning like he knows what she's thinking anyway.

She narrows her eyes, but lets it drop. "So you're only in town for a visit?"

He meets her eyes and holds her with his gaze, suddenly and unexpectedly serious. "I don't know yet," he says. "I might stay for a while. Depends on how long the job takes, and how much I like it here."

Courtney lets herself really look at him for a moment—eyes full of mischief and the uncanny ability to see right through her, arms that look even better now that he's gotten all the way through puberty, a chest that frankly leaves her a little envious of the sweater he's wearing, from the little of it she can see. All the things she loved about him are still there, but now he's grown into them fully. He doesn't just project self-confidence as a front or a cover anymore; she can see just how settled into his own skin he is now. It's a good look.

She's different now, too. With her career mostly where she wants it to be, and the hindsight necessary to see how unhappy she'd been making herself when she'd refused to make friends or anything other than work a priority, she's settled into a life she genuinely enjoys. She has friends, she talks to her parents much less frequently than she used to, and sometimes she even sleeps in without feeling guilty about it.

It's tempting, knowing all of these things, to let herself daydream about him again. But she knows herself, and she knows Duncan. He's never been the type to hold back; he feels things intensely and falls hard, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. So does she. It wasn't a good mix when they were teenagers, and it's still a delicate thing, to balance that instant attraction with knowing someone in a way that truly lasts. More than anything, she wants to be his friend again.

"Toronto's a great place," she says, letting all the emotional turmoil she's feeling slide to the back of her consciousness. "Lots of restaurants, good music. Oh! I almost forgot—Bridgette and Geoff will be in town next week, looking at houses. Bridgette just got transferred and they're moving in January."

"Still in touch with them, huh?" he asks. "That's cool. I stopped in Winnipeg on my way here, said hey to Trent and DJ."

"It's so funny to think of them both in Winnipeg," Courtney says. "They're such wimps about cold weather!"

"I know," he says. "Remember when DJ thought he had frostbite from sleeping in the woods for one measly night?"

"Oh my god, I do!" Courtney laughs, and then they're off on the obligatory walk down a slightly horrifying memory lane, recalling terrible and hilarious things from Camp Wawanakwa.

Reminiscing carries them through the next two hours, and it isn't until Courtney's phone beeps with a text that she even notices. She glances down and winces. "Oh, damn, I forgot I was supposed to meet my friend at the pet store," she says. "She needs help choosing a cat tree. I'd better go. Hey, what's your number? We should hang out again while you're here."

Duncan smiles, a small, real smile that doesn't even remotely look like a grin. "Sure," he says, and takes her phone when she offers it, entering his number. "Text me anytime, my schedule's pretty open."

Courtney smiles back and stands, leaning down to hug him goodbye. "I will," she says, and she means it.

When she gets home, she sees that he's entered himself into her contacts as _Neanderthal loser_. She snorts, and changes it to _Duncan_. If she secretly thinks of him as the one that got away, well, that's for her alone.

+++

She doesn't text him right away. She deliberately waits out her initial desire to bombard him with questions and ideas about his future and everything that's happened to her in the last eight years. If she wants to keep him in her life, as a friend or anything else, they have to actually get to know each other this time. She has to rely on her own self-control, too, because there's no way in hell she's telling her friends about her high school boyfriend showing up and turning her into an idiot who can't make and keep to a simple plan of action.

With daily self-pep talks, she manages to wait for a week, and when she does text, she keeps it casual. Well, the lawyer version of casual.

_Hi! This is Courtney. Do you have plans this Friday? Bridgette and Geoff and I are going to get drinks and dinner if you'd like to join us._

_still using complete sentences in text, r u_

_I communicate thoroughly with no room for ambiguity in all mediums, yes._

_thats cute, princess. im in_

_I have a name, Duncan._

_u hav a sense of humour too or u used to_

_You can pick me up at 7._ she replies, and sends her address. She ignores the flirting, and the butterflies in her stomach.

Once she's opened the lines of communication, he sends her messages a few times a day. It's mostly making fun of people he sees at the garage where he's working on his special project, but sometimes it's about them and their tangled history.

_remember when u wrote me a performance improvement plan that relied on kissing as a reward?_

_I remember helping you pass that class without much help from YOU,_ she sends back, and carefully does not think about his hands on her lower back, holding her in his lap while she kissed him like she needed him to breathe, until he pulled away and laughed, at her but also _with_ her, like they had their own secret in-joke.

A day later, he sends _hey do u still like those chocolate balls?_

_You mean Ferrero Rocher? Yes, why?_

_no reason ;)_

He used an emoji? Courtney blinks at her phone screen in disbelief. She can remember at least five different times when she'd been subjected to a long rant about the inherent uselessness and anti-masculinity of emoji. And people said _she_ had ridiculous standards.

It's a good sign that he's over that, but she doesn't let her guard down because of it. She feels a little like she's playing hard to get, which she doesn't like, but it's more than that. She's being careful for both of them. Besides, there's no real indication that he's even trying to get her in the first place. But if he is, she's being cautious.

 _I can buy my own treats,_ she sends back. _I won a huge case today. Partner by 35 is looking possible!_

_not a surprise 2 any1 who knos u_

Courtney smiles despite herself.

+++

On Friday, she takes much too long deciding what to wear. But if Duncan is going to be throwing around sweaters, like he's some kind of bad boy-hipster dream hybrid, she clearly needs to rise above her standard choices. Which means that all her little black dresses are out, and anyway, that would be too fancy for the bar where they're meeting Geoff and Bridgette.

In desperation, she calls Leshawna. She and Leshawna are not close, but two years ago she'd helped an innocent client of Leshawna's get out of a legal tangle when no other lawyer would. Since then, they've been friends on Facebook and occasionally talk, so it isn't entirely out of the blue. And Courtney needs someone who knows both her _and_ Duncan. She'll just have to live with the inevitable barrage of laughter her request will incite.

"Duncan?" Leshawna says, in a tone so high pitched that Courtney imagines her neighbor's dog must be the only other being who can hear it. "Girl, you want _Duncan_ back?"

Courtney sighs. "Yes, I know, it's completely ridiculous, I will listen if you have a whole lecture about what a bad idea this is, but could you just tell me fancy or casual first?"

There's a long silence. Courtney keeps flipping through her closet full of sweater sets and lawyer suits in despair. Finally, Leshawna speaks.

"Fine. I'm getting you for this later, but you want casual. Sexy casual, but still casual."

"I don't know if I have that," Courtney says. "Here, look at my closet."

She turns the call into a video call and shows Leshawna her clothes.

"Oh my god," Leshawna says. "This is hopeless! Do you even own anything that isn't appropriate for the office?"

Courtney starts digging through her drawers and pulling out options, which range from t-shirts that belonged to her law school ex to questionable tank tops gifted from her mother. She shows everything to Leshawna, who gives increasingly horrified headshakes.

Finally, Courtney remembers the one pair of jeans Bridgette had forced her to buy the last time she'd visited Toronto. "What about these?" she asks. She's never actually worn them, because she feels like they're way too tight.

"Put them on," Leshawna replies, and once Courtney is modeling them for her, heaves a huge sigh of relief. "I swear to god, this is a white girl miracle. Yes, those make your ass look good. Now try to find a shirt that doesn't scream grown up C.I.T."

"Thank you for your help," Courtney says, once they've found a top that doesn't offend Leshawna to her core. It doesn't show much cleavage, but Courney's arms and the top half of her back are bare, which Leshawna says balances out the tightness and length of the jeans.

Leshawna laughs. "You are not welcome," she says. "Not until you call me back and tell me what happens so I can laugh in your face."

Courtney has already resigned herself to this, so she just agrees and gets Leshawna off the line so she can go panic about her makeup.

All the drama is worth it when she walks down the steps of her building to where Duncan is waiting for her, leaning like a motorcycle hipster against a Ducati in jeans and a band t-shirt, and a leather jacket she distinctly remembers. She sees his eyes widen before his expression smooths out into his usual slightly smug and distant look.

"Hey," he says, and tosses her a helmet that she only catches because of long-distant muscle memory. She hasn't ridden a motorcycle since the last time she visited him before they broke up. "You look nice."

She twists her mouth into a moue of mock disgust, holding the helmet in one hand with her other hand on her hip. "Nice? That's all you have to say?"

Duncan takes the helmet back and sets it carefully on her head, the bottoms of his palms resting lightly on her neck as he settles it snugly into place. "You know you look good," he says, so quietly it might as well be a whisper directly into her ear.

Courtney suppresses a shiver. "And you don't look like a complete delinquent," she says brightly. "It's a good look on you."

"All on the surface," he says, getting on the bike and offering her a hand up behind him. "I promise, I'm still me."

"That doesn't scare me," she says, and enjoys the little smile that gives him as he puts his own helmet on.

The rest of the trip passes in silence as they drive through the city streets. Courtney would never admit it under pain of being disbarred, but she's missed riding with him. It took her a long time to trust him enough as a driver that she could relax and enjoy the ride, but once she did, it was one of her favorite things. She tightens her hold around his waist and turns her face into the wind.

+++

Courtney has chosen to not warn Bridgette and Geoff about their fourth for dinner that night. She's not quite sure why, except to put off the inevitable questioning for as long as possible, and to have someone else around to help her answer, even if Duncan has never been much help during interrogations.

They walk in together, Courtney smoothing down her helmet hair, and Geoff's mouth literally drops open.

"Dude!" he says, jumping to his feet. "It's the Duncster!"

Duncan gives Courtney a look, as if saying she's going to get it later for not preparing them for his presence. "Hey, guys," he says, and slips into a seat before Geoff can grab him for a hug. Courtney sits down next to him and pastes on an innocent good girl smile.

"It turns out Duncan's in town for a while," she says. "So I brought him along to catch up."

"Wow," Bridgette says, and the wealth of hidden meaning in her tone is truly impressive. "What a surprise!"

Geoff, face fallen for just a moment when he realizes he's not going to get his hug, joins them at the table. "It's great to see you, dude! What are you doing in town?"

"Job," Duncan says. "Got an Alpha Romero that needs a special touch, so I got called in."

"And you looked up Courtney?" Bridgette says, smiling daggers at Courtney that promise _many_ questions later. "That's so sweet."

Courtney flushes, but Duncan laughs and shakes his head.

"I would've eventually, yeah," he says. "But we actually bumped into each other at a coffee shop last week. Totally an accident."

"Yeah," Courtney says, trying to stop her cheeks from getting redder. "A random accident!"

"A lucky one," Duncan adds, and Courtney completely fails to hide her smile.

Dinner goes about how she expected, with lots of questions that she turns around on Bridgette and Geoff with skills she's learned in the courtroom. She can tell Duncan is impressed, and it eggs her on a little, making her reach for complete conversational control. At the end of the night they part ways with Bridgette and Geoff with hugs, which are, as usual, a little too enthusiastic for Courtney and Duncan's liking.

Duncan drives her back taking a scenic route instead of the quickest way, but she doesn't point it out, happy to spend a little more time in contented silence with him.

"Goodnight," she says, when they do get back to her building. She hands him the helmet and starts to turn away, but he puts a light hand on her shoulder, urging her to face him again.

"I had fun," he says, and looks at her in a dangerous way, his eyes dark and serious. She has to blink and break his gaze, because if she doesn't she'll reach out and pull his head down, kiss him like they haven't been apart for eight years for very good reasons.

"Me, too," she says, instead of everything else she wants to say and do.

"Courtney," he starts, then stops and looks up at the sky, running a hand over his head.

"I know," she says, and steps back. "But not now."

"Not ever?" he asks. His shoulders slump a little, and her resolve softens a bit. But not enough to change her course of action. She thinks he understands that they're not talking about a kiss or sex or even whether they're attracted to each other now, but rather, when they'll be ready to talk about the past.

"Not now," she repeats. "Not tonight."

She grabs his hand before he can get back on the bike. "Soon, okay?" she offers. He gives her a grin and a nod before leaving.

+++

Courtney dreams about flying that night, and when she wakes up, there's a text from Duncan waiting for her.

_so what did u do after law school? did u get ur #1 firm like u planned?_

She doesn't reply right away. She goes about her usual Saturday morning routine: coffee, yoga, and a long shower, followed by planning out the next week. Then she rewards herself with a yogurt cup and about three hours of trashy reality TV (she thinks she's been traumatized into liking it, for very odd but obvious reasons) while she thinks about what to text to Duncan.

They broke up for completely clear and inevitable reasons, which she only knows because of the hindsight that comes with being an adult. At the time, she'd been heartbroken, and had thrown herself into finishing college and then getting into law school with complete and utter focus, and she hadn't dated again for more than three years. The part she can't figure out is if that means they're doomed to the same fate now. How differently do things have to go to make them work together? Are they even the same people? She doesn't feel like she is at all, but she can sense the core of who Duncan had been inside this new grown-up version, and she wonders if it's the same with her for him. And if it draws him to her even more, the way it's doing to her.

 _I did_ , she sends back. _Of course, I had a nervous breakdown a year later and had to spend the next year in my parents' spare bedroom._

He answers almost right away. _rly? sry babe_

A second later, he sends _when type As go bad…_ and all the good will he'd built with the first response takes a beating. But the thing is, he's not wrong. Courtney hadn't been able to be happy when she also felt she had to be perfect, not more than superficially, and it took the absolute rock bottom of imperfection and sadness for her to realize it and start working happiness into her ambition from the start. It turned out you could be good at your job, even as good as it was possible for you to be, without being better than everyone else in the history of time. She was still better than most people her age, at least.

Still, it stings a little to see it laid out so plainly.

She doesn't reply, and ten minutes later he sends _sry, didnt want 2 be mean. i kno u always work hard_

Apologies are a new part of his repertoire, and Courtney likes it. _What about you?_ she asks. _What's the worst thing that's happened to you in the last eight years?_

_…harsh. uh prbly rite after we split. drank alot got fired. dont feel bad, i deserved it_

_I'm still sorry_ , she replies. _But look where you are now. Not that I'm surprised._

_ur not?_

She smiles, glad that he's not here to see it. _I've always known you could do great things if you wanted to._

 _u were the only 1_ he replies.

 _That's not true_. Courtney's done with this deeper conversation, though, so she immediately adds _How's the project going?_

They talk on and off all weekend, through to Courtney's Sunday brunch with Bridgette. She tries very hard to not look at her phone every time it buzzes, but Bridgette catches her out anyway.

"Do you need to get that?" Bridgette asks, with a knowing grin.

"No!" Courtney replies. "Um, that would be very rude."

"I'd understand," Bridgette says. "After all, it's not every day that your dangerous ex-boyfriend shows up with a stable career and better fashion sense."

"It's not like that," she protests, but it is very much like that, and there's no way she can convince Bridgette otherwise.

"He did look good," Bridgette continues. "I mean, if you're into that sort of thing. Which you clearly are."

Courtney drops her head to the table in defeat. "I can't help it," she moans into her hands. "He's just always been—so irresistible. Which is ridiculous!"

"Sometimes, we're pretty ridiculous people. We just need to face the facts."

"Your fiancé almost never takes off his cowboy hat and you're still marrying him," Courtney agrees, and takes great satisfaction in the betrayed look Bridgette gives her. "What? It's true!"

"Fair enough," Bridgette says, shrugging, and brunch continues without any further head-banging.

As she's leaving, Bridgette grabs Courtney's hand. "Hey, it's okay, you know?"

Courtney tilts her head in confusion.

"Liking Duncan?" Bridgette says. "It's okay. You're allowed to have feelings."

"I guess so," Courtney says, and tries to take her friend's words to heart.

+++

In the end, they have the conversation when she least expects it, and not in the carefully planned way she'd wanted it to happen. They've spent at least one day each weekend together for the past month and a half, usually doing something that lets them talk when they want to, but with enough distraction available that they don't let things get awkward. He fits well into the pattern of the rest of her life, seamlessly making her feel like he's always been there.

Duncan is so much funnier now, Courtney realizes, and she tries not to let him know how much it's affecting her. He's kinder, too—but as soon as she has that thought, she knows it's wrong. He's not kinder, he's just hiding it less. She thinks maybe both of them are more themselves, and that the things they'd been attracted to in each other weren't really their differences, but their similarities. She can be just as mean as he can, and he's as driven as she is, when he lets it out. With all these revelations, she's feeling confident about their chances. Still, she never meant to start having the past out with him at the same coffee shop where they bumped into each other again for the first time.

"If I'd been—different, better, whatever," Duncan starts, after Courtney's finished laughing at the impression he's just done of their seriously snobby barista. "Do you think it could have worked?"

Courtney chokes on her first sip of coffee.

"Sorry," he says. "I've just been thinking about it a lot, and I know most of what happened was my fault, for not caring enough, or for not letting you know that I cared."

"No," she replies, shaking her head firmly. "It was just as much my fault for trying to change you into the person I thought I wanted. If I had succeeded, I wouldn't have liked you as much as I did, anyway. We were just kids, Duncan."

"Too dumb to know any better?" he asks ruefully. "We thought we were so smart, too."

Courtney sticks up her nose at him for a second. "Well, _I_ certainly was smart. _I_ was a C.I.T." She can't hold the pose for more than five seconds before she breaks into laughter, and his eyes widen slightly as he joins her, still not used to her making such easy fun of herself.

She wipes tears out of her eyes from laughing so hard and speaks again a few moments later. "Seriously. It would be really unlikely for two sixteen-year-olds to make a lasting relationship. Geoff and Bridgette are weird, happy freaks."

"And even they broke up like, ten times during college," Duncan adds. "Okay, that's a good point."

"I missed you," Courtney says, serious again. "I mean, it was really awful. I didn't get fired, but I didn't know how to have fun without you."

Duncan reaches across the table and takes her hand, and she lets him. He rubs her hand gently between his fingers, and carefully doesn't look at her. "I missed you, too," he says. "I, uh, didn't do too well without you at first."

Courtney shakes her head. "Maybe not at first, but you didn't need me—look at how many awesome things you've accomplished. I think maybe we needed to be apart to actually figure things out."

"You needed a mental breakdown?" he asks skeptically, raising his head to meet her gaze again.

"I did," she replies, and it shocks him into silence. "I thought I could control everything and that if I did, things would be perfect. If I hadn't lost control, I never would have figured out how to be happy, without someone like you dragging it out of me a little bit at a time. Now I can be happy with myself."

"I guess it wouldn't have been as easy for me to start my own business if I hadn't been trying to prove to the entire world that I could do it," he says slowly.

"See," she says, smiling a little. "Breaking up was the best thing we ever did for each other."

Duncan frowns, then tightens his grip on her hand. "Maybe," he says. "At least, until now."

"Until now," she agrees. The swooping in her stomach makes Courtney feel a little dizzy. They're staring at each other again, like they can't help it, and she doesn't want to move or look away. She's seriously considering climbing over the table and causing a scene when someone bumps into their table and she has to steady her coffee cup with both hands, pulling out of Duncan's grasp. When things settle again, the mood is broken, but Courtney doesn't feel cheated. It's going to happen, and she's content to wait for the right timing without forcing anything. Her sixteen-year-old self would be shocked, but Courtney's far enough away from that version of herself that she can't regret anything that led to this moment, and this possible future.

+++

She owes Leshawna an update, and Bridgette has been really cool about it all, so Courtney sends them a selfie of her disgustingly happy face that night and captions it with _pretty sure I'm about to get asked out!_

 _I'm vomiting rn_ Leshawna sends, followed immediately by _you 2 crazy kids deserve each other anyway, and PS, I am NOT going to be in your wedding._

Bridgette replies _super cute!_

Next she goes to make a vague but obvious Facebook status update, then remembers she hasn't exactly told any of her non-Camp Wawanakwa friends about Duncan's return to her life. Sighing, she opens up the group text and settles in for an evening of serious teasing as she comes clean to everyone.

It's worth it to have Duncan back.

+++

They go on an actual date two weeks later. After more than two months of spending quite a bit of time talking herself out of falling for Duncan again, and being nervous about everything, she's surprisingly calm when it happens.

After all the emotions in the coffee shop, she'd half expected Duncan to pull back a bit, maybe try regain some distance. But he didn't. He texted her every day, and met her after work mid-week for dinner with Geoff and Bridgette, who took them on a tour of the house they'd chosen. She'd ridden with him there and back, and it had taken all her self-restraint to not kiss him goodnight. He'd pulled her back at the last second as she started up her building's steps, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She hadn't been able to make herself wash her face that night.

The day after that, he'd texted _let me take you out_

 _You spelled it "you!"_ she sent back. _Out where?_

_its a surprise, trust me_

Then he sent another text immediately: _oh and wear those jeans ;)_

So here she is, wearing the jeans that even she can admit make her ass look fantastic, waiting outside her building and smiling to herself when she hears the rumble of his bike coming down the street.

"That's what I'm talking about," he says, blatantly ogling her ass when he takes off his helmet and parks the bike. But the kiss he presses to her cheek is gentle and he looks a little nervous, so she lets the remark pass.

"Where are we going?" she asks, because even though she's grown a lot, she's never going to be a person who like surprises when she's not in charge of them herself.

"You can trust me," he says, rolling his eyes and putting her helmet on her head, making sure it stays.

"I do!" she protests. "But I just hope I dressed for the right place, jeans aside. You didn't tell me what else I should prepare for."

Duncan smiles at her. "The point is that _you_ don't have to prepare for anything. I've got you covered, you can just have fun."

"Okay," she says reluctantly, but it's mostly for show. There's a warmth in her chest at the thought of Duncan planning something specifically for her to enjoy. She gets on the bike behind him and tries not to spend the ride looking for landmarks that might give her clues as to where they're going.

It takes a while, and Courtney eventually realizes that part of the date is the ride. Duncan's always been able to tell when she loves something, especially when she tries to hide it, and he knows she loves this. It's like flying, but with the safety of the ground right beneath her, and the sense of togetherness that comes when they're not talking and can just feel each other. They ride through the city in a roundabout way and eventually make their way out of the suburbs, out past Hamilton and into Binbrook.

Courtney doesn't spend much time outside the city, too busy with cases and etching out happiness in her day to day life to travel much. Her anxiety always gets worse outside familiar places, too, so she generally avoids it. It's beautiful here, though, with stars in the sky that she can actually see, and it's a little chilly, but not cold. She can snuggle into Duncan's back, and she does, loving the satisfied way he leans into her and shapes his back to block her from the wind.

When they arrive, Courtney laughs. It's a star-gazing spot; not the one they used to go to together in BC, but close enough that she immediately recognizes the intention and squeezes Duncan's arm in excitement after they park the bike.

"Nailed it, huh?" Duncan says, cocky grin firmly in place, and takes her helmet, stowing it in one of the bike's compartments and taking out several bags from another.

"It's perfect." Courtney takes the blanket he hands her and spreads it out in the first good spot she finds, slightly secluded from the rest of the area. Not that there are other people around—she's pretty sure they're technically here outside of open hours, but she can't bring herself to care. She has so many memories like this, nights when he'd convince her to leave her homework undone (it had always been extra credit homework anyway) and go out driving until they got tired and wanted to find a spot to make out.

They're not teenagers anymore, and they have too much left to talk about to go right to the kissing, but Courtney finds herself feeling like she's seventeen again: defiant and dizzy with how much she wants to throw Duncan down and press herself against him, relearn the shape of his mouth with hers, feel the hands he's finally grown into all over her body. She holds it back with effort and sits down carefully.

Duncan settles next to her and starts opening various things. "For you," he says, handing her a small box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates.

"You cheater," she says, but she takes them just the same and eats one right away. She loves the hazelnut in the chocolate, and she loves making Duncan eat them while he protests the whole time that he doesn't like chocolate.

"Thank you," she says, and holds one out for him to take, too. He reaches out, but at the last second uses his mouth instead of his hand to take it from her fingers. She shivers and doesn't move until he pulls back, letting her index finger catch against his lips, deliberately pushing into the touch.

"Now who's cheating?" Duncan says, and his eyes are dark.

Courtney pulls back and smiles primly. "I don't know what you mean. Do you have any other food?"

"Anything for you, princess," he replies, and opens up the rest of the feast he's brought for them.

They talk and eat for a while, watching the sky and reminiscing a little. Duncan laughs more than he used to, she realizes, and it makes her happy.

"I didn't really come for a job," Duncan says after a short silence, once the food is gone.

Courtney raises her head from where she's been leaning on his shoulder and looks at him, confused. "What?"

"I mean, not really," he says. "I've been needing a change, and after Owen started that Facebook group for the Camp Wawanakwa group a while ago, I started thinking about you."

She sits up and folds herself into a cross-legged position facing him. She doesn't want to say anything, afraid even this new grown-up Duncan might not keep sharing if she asks more questions. She tries to look encouraging instead, but she's pretty sure the curiosity is clear in her expression.

"I wanted—well, it's not that simple. But I'd think of you sometimes, when I had to make a decision." Duncan rubs at the back of his neck with one hand and chuckles. "I mean, sometimes I did the exact opposite of what I thought you'd tell me to do, but I kept thinking about you and what you were doing, in a way I hadn't in years. And I thought—maybe it was time to see if you ever thought about me, too."

Courtney swallows. This is so much more than she ever expected, and she has to find a way to share something equally important.

"I did," she says quietly. "I do. I mean, I didn't sit around pining for you. But when things got really bad, and I wanted to give up, sometimes I'd wonder what you were doing. And I'd get mad enough to make it through another day by imagining you making fun of me or daring me to keep going."

Duncan pulls her in against him, and she moves with him, settling back to lean her head on his chest, so she can look at the stars and not at him. It's easy to feel safe when they're touching like this, but the words are still hard to say.

"I mean, I eventually stopped getting mad," she continued. "When I didn't need to anymore. And then I'd—" she stops, a little embarrassed.

"You'd what?" he asks, and she's never heard him speak so softly. It gives her the courage to keep going.

"I'd think about you, and I'd tell myself that you'd want me to be happy, and that you'd want me to have fun." She turns her face to the side and feels herself flush. "And sometimes I'd think that I could make you really mad just by being happy and proving you wrong about me."

"It sounds like we dared each other into better life choices from across the country," Duncan says after a second. "That's kind of funny, if you think about it, since when we were together we'd bring out the worst in each other."

"Not always," she protests. They weren't any worse than any other two teenagers.

"No," he agreed. "Not always."

She doesn't say anything else for a while, just leans back against Duncan and watches the night sky while he rubs his hand up and down her arm gently. She's taken her jacket off, and she thinks she might be cold, but his hands on her bare skin feel too good for her to be willing to put any more layers between them.

"Did you mean to bump into me after all?" she asks eventually. "In the coffee shop? Were you _stalking_ me?"

"No," he retorts. "I did plan to ask Leshawna to have you show up somewhere I could meet you after a little while. But I didn't do that right away because, uh—"

"What?" Courtney asks curiously, when he doesn't continue.

"I got a little—nervous, okay? Are you happy now?" He sounds like his teenage self for just a moment, but it only makes her smile.

"I am," she says, in an entirely different tone. She turns over, kneeling between his long legs. "You make me really happy."

"Yeah," Duncan says, reaching out to pull her all the way into his lap. "Right back at you, babe."

Courtney resists his grip just a little. "And this is for real?"

His eyes stay on hers, warm and dark and so much better than the last time she'd been this close to him. "As real as anything I've ever done," he says, voice hoarse.

She lets him finish tugging her in close, his lips grazing her neck until she pulls her head back. She keeps her body tight against his, thighs spread over his lap and arms around his shoulders. "Aren't you going to kiss me?" she asks, when he just stares.

"Why don't you kiss me?" he shoots back, cocky grin firmly in place.

Courtney narrows her eyes. "Maybe I will."

She still makes him wait for another long moment, taking the opportunity to look at his face, familiar and safe, but also completely new. Then she gives in to the magnetic pull between them, and lets him hold her face still while they kiss for the second first time.

It's new enough that it takes them a moment to find their stride, timing slightly off until they relearn each other's rhythms. Courtney sighs a little when Duncan moves down and finds the right spot on her neck, and she shudders with him as she bites his bottom lip the way he always loved her doing, before.

Duncan keeps a hand on her hip, rubbing firmly along the waistline of her jeans. She's cursing the tightness now, because she wants to feel his fingers on her skin there, but the jeans are too tight to give him any room. She pulls back, frustrated, and Duncan smiles when he realizes what's wrong.

"What happened to having decorum in public?" he teases, quoting part of her often-used rant against too much public display of affection.

"You're so—" Courtney starts, but cuts herself off by kissing him again, a slow, wet kiss that leaves him panting when she pulls back, the hard line of his dick pressing into her where she's settled in his lap.

"So?" he gasps, not willing to let her have the last word. Courtney's glad he hasn't lost that habit, even if she'll never admit it.

"So taking me home now," she says. She leans forward and speaks directly into his ear. "Take me home _right now_."

"Didn't plan so well after all," he replies, shaking his head and helping her stand up. "It's an hour ride back."

"Drive fast," she smiles, and drags him back to the bike.

The journey back into the city takes forever, but Courtney can never regret having more time on the bike with him. She can't really talk to him while they're driving so fast, but she makes sure her hands are tight on his hips in a very clear signal. He does drive fast—so fast she's almost worried, but she feels the same urgency. Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe it's a mistake to move this fast, even though she knows who Duncan is, and who he was, and wants this right now.

When they do get back to her building, she's talked herself back into taking him to bed immediately. They find street parking right away which is a minor miracle, and before Courtney even knows what's happening, she's shoved him back against the inside of her front door and is kissing him again.

He pulls back after a moment, hands on the small of her back under her shirt, warm and firm on her skin. "Are you sure?" he asks. "This is quick, maybe—"

"Duncan," she says, cutting him off with her fingers on his mouth. "I want you. If you want to wait, I will, but I'm not afraid of doing what makes me happy anymore."

"It's so weird when you say things like that," he says, but he's smiling. "As if I wouldn't want this, now or anytime."

Courtney remembers how reluctant he'd been to show any kind of desire for her when they'd first met, how hard he'd worked to hide it. It's not jarring anymore, to think about the differences between who he was and who he is now. It's still like a surprise every time, but it's a happy one that she's learning to trust.

"Careful who hears you talk like that," she says, and pulls him with her into the bedroom.

"I don't give a shit who hears me talking like that," he replies, and helps her pull off her shirt. They both toe off their shoes before they start kissing again, and then they're lost in a blur of clothing removal interspersed with touches and kissing.

When they finally get to the bed, he's naked and she's almost there, just her underwear left. She pushes him down and settles on top, loving the way his eyes are locked to hers and the feel of his hard dick beneath her. He reaches out and touches her nipple lightly, then sits up so he can reach it with his mouth.

"Do you still like this?" he asks, and slowly licks up her breast, biting carefully when he reaches her nipple.

"Yes," she gasps. "Oh, god, please—"

He works both her breasts over with his tongue and lips, hands holding her back steady, until she feels like she could come just from this. She manages to push his head away for a moment, long enough to pull back and struggle out of her underwear. It takes longer than she wants until she can finally kick them over the edge of the bed, and Duncan smirks at her.

"A little help?" she demands, about to lose her balance, and he uses the momentum of her almost-fall to flip them on the bed, so that she's on her back. He kisses her again until she's not even a little annoyed, then moves down her body, with a focused look she knows well.

"Yes," she says, already anticipating his mouth on her, and he pauses.

"Yeah?" he asks, mouth hovering cruelly above where she wants it to be, laughter and hunger in his eyes. "You sure?"

"Yes!" she repeats, and uses one hand to shove his head down. 

By the time they finally sleep, Courtney is exhausted and relaxed and very, very happy.

+++

She wakes up slowly, feeling content and drowsy even though she can tell it's a bit later than she usually sleeps, even on weekends. The night before rushes through her mind in a flash of memory, and she shivers a bit. She stretches her arms and accidentally nudges Duncan's hip where he's curled up on his side next to her.

"Huh?" he asks sleepily, and she laughs at him quietly.

"You don't have to get up," she tells him, but she does urge him over onto his back so she can lie beside him and put her head on his chest.

"It's early," he complains, cracking one eye open and looking at her with deep suspicion. He automatically curls an arm around her, though, and one hand begins a slow rub up and down her side.

"That's why I said you can go back to sleep, silly," she says.

He doesn't hear her, or isn't listening. "It's the weekend," he says. "I get to sleep in."

Courtney can't hold back her laugh at that.

"What?" he asks, both eyes open now, and a betrayed expression on his sleep-creased face.

"I want waffles for breakfast," she decides, ignoring his sleepy confusion. She can see the whole day stretching out in front of them—arguing over going out versus making breakfast in her condo, getting a ride to her yoga class on the back of his bike, and meeting him again later for drinks or dinner. She'll resolve not to let him spend the night again, and completely fail at keeping to that decision. She can't wait.

"Too early for breakfast," Duncan whines, and Courtney smiles into his chest. She's exactly where she wants to be.

Epilogue

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Duncan says for the fifth time, surveying the lobby full of slightly familiar faces as they enter the hotel. "I'm not even going to get a chance to win any money, this is totally pointless."

Courtney wrinkles her nose. She doesn't disagree, exactly, but she also isn't above the urge to rub her happiness in some people's faces, like, oh, say, _Heather_. She jabs Duncan's side with her elbow and subtly points across the hallway to a larger room where Heather is holding court with Beth and Lindsay. Harold is watching Leshawna from the corner, and Courtney can also see Bridgette and Geoff dancing like idiots while Cody and Gwen laugh at them.

When Owen had decided to throw a fifteen-year reunion party for them all, Courtney had deleted the Facebook invite email immediately without a second thought. Then Leshawna and Bridgette had tag-teamed her into agreeing to go, and like hell was she going without Duncan. At least he could usually be persuaded fairly easily by the idea of petty revenge.

"Ugh," Duncan says. "That does not help."

"Maybe this will?" Courtney says, and takes off her coat to reveal the absolutely terrible dress she'd been convinced to borrow from Bridgette. It doesn't cover much, with an open back, plunging neckline, and a slit that hits her upper thigh. She hadn't been able to wear a bra with it at all.

Duncan stares.

Courtney preens inside, while also cursing the predictability of men. Still, it's gratifying to know that three years together (this time) haven't robbed her of the ability to make him speechless.

"Come on," she tells him, and gives her coat to the person working the coat check. "I want to incite at least three lawsuits I can win before midnight."

Duncan takes her hand and pulls her arm into the crook of his. "Just tell me who and where, princess," he says, and they walk into the reunion together.

[the end]


End file.
